Showing off His Fated Love

He Chose The Maid Over The Heiress

I was in a Zurich boardroom signing a contract worth fifty million dollars when I saw the photo that ended my marriage. It was an Instagram notification from the woman I paid to scrub my toilets. The caption read: "My little prince deserves the world." The photo showed her son holding a custom-made porcelain doll with diamond-dust eyes. It was the only one in the world, commissioned specifically for my daughter, Lily. I cancelled the deal and flew home immediately. When I arrived at my daughter's school, I found the housekeeper wearing my vintage Chanel coat and driving my car. My husband, Austyn, didn't run to greet me. He ran past our crying daughter to comfort the housekeeper's son. "Don't you dare touch my son!" he screamed at me, protecting the boy while our daughter scraped her knees on the pavement. He looked at me with pure hate, confident that he could take half my assets in a divorce. He forgot that I wasn't just a wife. I was the Duchess of the Miller Syndicate, the most powerful crime family in New York. I pulled out my phone and froze every account he had. "You want a divorce?" I asked, signaling my security team to step forward. "Take off the suit, Austyn. I paid for it." "You are leaving this marriage exactly how you entered it. With nothing."

The Defective Mate He Rejected Is A White Wolf

I stood at the altar in my lace gown, the heiress of the Sterling Pack, waiting to marry the man I had protected for years. To soothe his fragile ego, I had taken suppressants to hide my wolf, letting everyone believe I was "defective" and unable to shift. But when the priest asked for his vows, Liam didn't say "I do." Instead, he looked toward the back of the hall where his pregnant mistress stood with a toddler. "I can't let my bloodline die out with a broken mate," Liam announced to the entire city's elite. He looked at me with cold, hard eyes. "I reject you, Ava. Sarah carries a strong male heir. You are nothing but a wolf without a skin." The humiliation burned as I coughed up blood onto the white roses, the bond shattering in my chest. He thought he was discarding a useless cripple. He didn't know that the only reason he felt strong was because I had dimmed my own light. I wiped the blood from my lip and looked up. My eyes, usually hazel, flashed a blinding silver-white. "I accept your rejection." I turned and walked away, leaving him with his stolen happiness. He didn't know that when I returned five years later, I wouldn't be alone. I would be coming back with a Lycan King, and I would own the very ground he stood on.

Spare Part Wife: Liver For His Mistress

I wore my favorite emerald silk dress to Per Se, thinking our third anniversary would finally be the night Darius came back to me. My heart was pounding with hope, but the moment he covered the rim of my champagne glass with a cold, marble-like hand, that hope died. He didn't bring a gift; he brought a personal assistant and a medical consent form. His ex-girlfriend, Hazel, was dying of liver failure, and I was the only compatible match they had found in the world. The realization hit me like a physical blow: he hadn’t married me for love, but for a "harvest." When I screamed that I wasn't a spare part, he didn't even flinch. Instead, he threatened to pull the funding for my grandmother’s Alzheimer’s care, holding the only family I had left hostage to save his "one who got away." He locked me in our penthouse under a high-tech security protocol, guarded by private contractors like a prisoner in a gilded cage. While I was trapped, he was at the hospital holding Hazel’s hand, wearing the Patek Philippe watch I’d bought him for his birthday. I watched their updates on social media, Hazel tagging him as her "hero" and "true love," while I was left alone in the dark. Darius told his lawyers I was just being "dramatic" and that I’d get over it once the settlement check cleared. Every memory of our three years together felt like a long-term investment in an organ transplant. How could I have been so blind? How could the man who promised to cherish me turn into a monster who only saw me as a regenerating asset? I stopped fighting and started calculating. I agreed to the surgery on one condition: a signed divorce decree and an ironclad trust for my grandmother that he could never touch. I refused his millions, took back my maiden name, and walked into that hospital with my head held high. I was giving them the piece of me they wanted, but it was the last thing they would ever take. As the elevator doors closed on Darius's desperate face, I knew that when I woke up, I would finally be free.

A Wife's Vengeful Art

The invitation glowed on my phone, Chloe Davis beaming next to my husband, Mark. Her caption hit me like a punch: "So proud to unveil my latest installation, 'Maternal Instincts.' A huge thanks to my muse and patron, Mark Peterson." Mark. My Mark. Smiling a smile I hadn' t seen directed at me since before Leo was born. 'Maternal Instincts.' Chloe knew nothing about being a mother. She only knew about destroying one. My son, Leo. My baby. He was gone. And there she was, twisting a word that belonged to me and my son, for her ugly art. I drove to her gallery, the cold night air doing nothing to wake me from the fog I lived in. She opened the door, a slow smile spreading across her face when she saw me. "Sarah. To what do I owe the pleasure?" Her voice was smooth, like honey mixed with poison. Inside, her "masterpiece" stood on a stark white pedestal: a collection of jagged, broken gray shapes, cemented together. It was cold and ugly. "It's about the pieces of a life," Chloe purred, theatrical. "How a mother's love can shatter... Mark found it incredibly moving." Then, the final blow: "He says I capture raw emotion so much better than you ever did. He said your work was always too… perfect. Too clean. No soul." Every word a calculated strike. Not just as a wife, but as an artist, as a person with a soul. My world, already cracked, began to splinter. I saw the sculpting knife on her workbench. Cold and heavy in my hand, it felt real. Solid. For the first time in months, I felt a sharp, clear purpose. I pressed the tip against my wrist. I just wanted the noise in my head to stop. Pushed down. A thin line of red appeared, bright and shocking. It didn' t hurt. It was just a release. Then, Chloe' s shriek: "Oh my god! What are you doing? You're getting blood on the floor!" She rushed, not to me, but to grab a rag. "Are you insane? This is a polished concrete floor! It's going to stain!" Her words barely registered as the world tilted and went fuzzy. The last thing I heard was her calling Mark: "Your wife is making a scene." I woke in a hospital room. Mark stood over me, his face a mask of fury. "What the hell was that, Sarah? Humiliating me in front of Chloe? At her big opening? Do you have any idea how that makes me look?" He spoke in a low hiss, silencing my attempts to explain. "Just don't. I can't deal with this right now. I have to go back and help Chloe clean up your mess." He turned to leave as a doctor, kind-looking, walked in. "Mr. Peterson? I'm Dr. Albright. I need to speak with you about your wife." Mark sighed, a long, suffering sound. "She's fine. Dramatic. Needs a sedative or something." Dr. Albright' s voice was firm. "Your wife is not being dramatic, Mr. Peterson. She is suffering from severe postpartum depression, complicated by profound grief. She is a danger to herself." A flood of relief washed over me. Someone saw it. Someone believed me. But Mark just laughed, a cold, ugly sound. "Postpartum depression? That's ridiculous. The baby's been gone for months. This is just Sarah being Sarah. She's seeking attention. She needs to grow up." He looked at me with contempt. "A psychiatric hold? Don't be absurd. I'm her husband. I'm taking her home." Dr. Albright stood her ground. "Mr. Peterson, I am advising you in the strongest possible terms against that. Your wife admitted she wanted to die. Taking her home without professional intervention would be medically negligent." Mark' s face hardened. He leaned into the doctor, his voice a menacing whisper. "Are you calling me a negligent husband? My wife is emotional. She says things she doesn't mean. I know how to handle her. We're leaving." He turned on me. "Get your things. We're going. You've caused enough trouble for one night." The flicker of hope died. To him, my pain was an inconvenience. An embarrassment. I was utterly alone with it. Then, the door creaked open. Emily. My best friend. She rushed to me, holding me tight. A raw sob tore from my throat, full of months of pain and fear. "Oh, Sarah," she murmured, her voice thick. "Mark's assistant called him… Chloe… she posted something. I knew." "It's not your fault," I choked out. "It's me. I'm broken, Em." "No!" she said fiercely. "You're not broken. You're sick. I've seen this coming. Ever since Leo…" The mention of his name hung heavy. Ever since Leo was born, I' d been sinking. The sleepless nights, his crying, mine, the overwhelming feeling. A darkness. A fog that wouldn't lift. Mark waved me off. "All new moms are tired." Then Leo died. SIDS, they said. The fog became a suffocating blackness. A gaping hole Mark filled with Chloe. "I'm not living, Em," I whispered, looking at my bandaged wrist. "I'm just… waiting. I don't know how to do this anymore." "Then we'll figure it out," Emily squeezed my hand. "You're not alone. I won't let you be." But as Mark' s car horn honked impatiently outside, I wondered if even her love would be enough. My prison warden was waiting. He thought he could lock me away in the perfect glass house. But he couldn't imprison a woman who had already decided she was going to die. A woman with a plan.

Love's Resurrection, A Deadly Game

My butcher shop smelled of iron and chilled meat, a clean, sharp scent I' d known my whole life. Most people in this small town saw me, Lisa, as the butcher with the pretty face and strange eyes. They whispered, but I didn' t care. Whispers don' t pay the bills, but a new client' s offer of twenty thousand dollars as a deposit for an "Underworld Matchmaker" job certainly did. Two hundred thousand more upon completion. It was enough to change my life. The job: perform a ritual for her supposedly deceased son, Alexander Dubois, to secure his family' s spiritual line and fortune. But then I saw the photo. My stomach dropped. It was Alex, the man who' d vanished from my life five years ago, the struggling artist I' d once loved. Yet, the death certificate listed him as Alexander Dubois, with a different birthdate. His eyes in the photo, full of that familiar charming light, stared back at me, shattering my world. This wasn' t just a high-paying job; it was a trap. The woman who claimed to be his mother was entangled in a web of lies. I knew, with chilling certainty, that the spirit I was summoned to match was not just "resistant"-it was alive. They weren't asking me to perform a ritual for the dead; they were trying to make me an accomplice to murder. My heart pounded furiously. This was no longer just about money or old traditions. This was about Alex, about unraveling the truth, and about surviving the deadly game the Dubois family was playing right into my grandmother' s special plan.

Broken Promises, Unbreakable Will

I poured my heart and genius into building InnovateTech, a billion-dollar empire, and into building Liam, the man I loved, my co-founder and fiancé. Then my cousin, Sarah, came weeping to my door, seeking refuge, and shattered everything. I walked into our penthouse, planning a surprise anniversary dinner, only to find Sarah in my silk robe, in Liam' s arms, in our bed. The shock was a physical demolition, leaving a vacuum where my heart used to be. Every memory, every promise, every dream turned to ash as I heard their laughter. Humiliated, betrayed, and with nothing left to lose, I made a desperate, wild choice: I would marry the reclusive billionaire, Mark, a man rumored to be a "freak," to save my family and myself. Liam confronted me, his face twisted with disbelief and rage. "You' re marrying Mark? The city' s freak? Are you insane?" he spat. I looked at him, feeling nothing but a vast, cold emptiness, the pain having burned away into steel. "Yes," I said, my voice steady. "I am." He saw a stranger, a loyal subject who had walked away, and in that moment, I knew I had made the right choice.

Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: You Can't Afford Me Now

The whispers said that out of bitter jealousy, Hadley shoved Eric's beloved down the stairs, robbing the unborn child of life. To avenge, Eric forced Hadley abroad and completely cut her off. Years later, she reemerged, and they felt like strangers. When they met again, she was the nightclub's star, with men ready to pay fortunes just to glimpse her elusive performance. Unable to contain himself, Eric blocked her path, asking, "Is this truly how you earn a living now? Why not come back to me?" Hadley's lips curved faintly. "If you’re eager to see me, you’d better join the queue, darling."

The $300 Husband Is A Zillionaire

I woke up in a blindingly white hotel penthouse with a throbbing headache and the taste of betrayal in my mouth. The last thing I remembered was my stepsister, Cathie, handing me a flute of champagne at the charity gala with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Now, a tall, dangerously handsome man walked out of the bathroom with a towel around his hips. On the nightstand sat a stack of hundred-dollar bills. My stepmother had finally done it—she drugged me and staged a scandal with a hired escort to destroy my reputation and my future. "Aisha! Is it true you spent the night with a gigolo?" The shouts of a dozen reporters echoed through the heavy oak door as camera flashes exploded through the peephole. My phone lit up with messages showing my bank accounts were already frozen. My father was invoking the 'morality clause' in my mother’s trust fund, and my fiancé had already released a statement dumping me to marry my stepsister instead. I was trapped, penniless, and being hunted by the press for a scandal I hadn't even participated in. My own family had sold me out for a payday, and the man standing in front of me was the only witness who could prove I was innocent—or finish me off for good. I didn't have time to cry. According to the fine print of the trust, I had thirty days to prove my "rehabilitation" through a legal marriage or I would lose everything. I tracked the man down to a coffee shop the next morning, watching him take a thick envelope of cash from a wealthy older woman. I sat across from him and slid a napkin with a $50,000 figure written on it. "I need a husband. Legal, paper-signed, and convincing." He looked at the number, then at me, a slow, crooked smile spreading across his face. I thought I was hiring a desperate gigolo to save my inheritance. I had no idea I was actually proposing to Dominic Fields, the reclusive billionaire shark who was currently planning a hostile takeover of my father’s entire empire.

Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

Traded Husbands, Tangled Hearts: Can Destiny Be Changed?

In their previous lives, Gracie married Theo. Outwardly, they were the perfect academic couple, but privately, she became nothing more than a stepping stone for his ambition, and met a tragic end. Her younger sister Ellie wed Brayden, only to be abandoned for his true love, left alone and disgraced. This time, both sisters were reborn. Ellie rushed to marry Theo, chasing the success Gracie once had-unaware she was repeating the same heartbreak. Gracie instead entered a contract marriage with Brayden. But when danger struck, he defended her fiercely. Could fate finally rewrite their tragic endings?

Reborn And Remade: Pursued By The Billionaire

In her previous life, Kimberly endured the betrayal of her husband, the cruel machinations of an evil woman, and the endless tyranny of her in-laws. It culminated in the bankruptcy of her family, and ultimately, her death. After being reborn, she resolved to seek retribution against those who had wronged her, and ensure her family's prosperity. To her shock, the most unattainable man from her past suddenly set his sights on her. "You may have overlooked me before, but I shall capture your heart this time around."

Secret Baby: The Jilted Wife's Final Goodbye

I sat on the cold tile floor of our Upper East Side penthouse, staring at the two pink lines until my vision blurred. After ten years of loving Julian Sterling and three years of a hollow marriage, I finally had the one thing that could bridge the distance between us. I was pregnant. But Julian didn't come home with flowers for our anniversary. He tossed a thick manila envelope onto the marble coffee table with a heavy thud. Fiona, the woman he'd truly loved for years, was back in New York, and he told me our "business deal" was officially over. "Sign it," He said, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He looked at me with the cold detachment of a man selling a piece of unwanted furniture. When I hesitated, he told me to add a zero to the alimony if the money wasn't enough. I realized in that moment that if he knew about the baby, he wouldn't love me; he would simply take my child and give it to Fiona to raise. I shoved the pregnancy test into my pocket, signed the papers with a shaking hand, and lied through my teeth. When my morning sickness hit, I slumped to the floor to hide the truth. "It's just cramps," I gasped, watching him recoil as if I were contagious. To make him stay away, I invented a man named Jack-a fake boyfriend who supposedly gave me the kindness Julian never could. Suddenly, the man who wanted me gone became a monster of possessiveness. He threatened to "bury" a man who didn't exist while leaving me humiliated at his family's dinner to rush to Fiona's side. I was so broken that I even ate a cake I was deathly allergic to, then had to refuse life-saving steroids at the hospital because they would harm the fetus. Julian thinks he's stalling the divorce for two months to protect the family's reputation for his father's Jubilee. He thinks he's keeping his "property" on a short leash until the press dies down. He has no idea I'm using those sixty days to build a fortress for my child. By the time he realizes the truth, I'll be gone, and the Sterling heir will be far beyond his reach.